


The Being

by PaisleyWraith



Series: KenMythology Universe [6]
Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 15:23:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13707225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaisleyWraith/pseuds/PaisleyWraith
Summary: A NON-CANON 'what if' scenario involving the Main Five from Cursebreaker, where someone from the church has survived and is now hell-bent on revenge.





	The Being

**Author's Note:**

> Two anons requested what this makes up... it can get a little disturbing.

The video was good quality. That made it worse. It was shaking, however, handheld as it focused on a dilapidated room, dark and with metal walls.

The figure in the tiny space was struggling to his feet, hands cuffed behind his back. He was blinking, looking disoriented, falling back down to sit as he tried shaking his head and winced.

“This is your introduction,” A voice said, sounding like he was trying to hard to sound intimidating. “To a game we’re going to play right now. I don’t know if you remember me, but you know this little guy, right?”

“What?” Tweek said, coherent enough to sound offended at the term. He was shivering, glaring in a squint towards the camera.

“You fucked us over. Remember?”

The cameraman zoomed in slightly at Tweek’s face, tired as normal and looking pissed. Then, recognition. His eyes widened. 

“You-” He said, and the camera cut.

“What the fuck are you doing?” The shot turned to another boy with his hands tied behind his back, a cut on his forehead that was bleeding into one of his eyes. His shoes were off and he was snarling angrily despite his wounds. “Tell me where the fuck I am, right now!”

“Smile for the camera, Red,” The man was speaking, sounding smug. “Tell your boyfriend to come find you.”

Kyle inhaled, a flicker of fear crossing his face before being replaced by rage.

“Don’t you touch Kenny,” Kyle said, voice lowering to something powerful. “Don’t you fucking-”

The video flicked back to Tweek, who was on his feet, twitching so violently it yanked his hands around behind him.

“You’re crazy,” The boy hissed, mismatched eyes huge in fear even as he scowled.

“I’m not crazy,” The man seemed to be moving closer, and Tweek moved backwards, shivering violently. “Someone crazy wouldn’t get this done. Wouldn’t be able to pull it off.”

There was a short cut, and Tweek was writhing on the ground, looking like he was trying to protect his stomach. Jeans and a sneaker were visible as it kicked the blond in the face, making him cry out and try to turn over, away from the attack.

The cameraman stepped on his shoulder, forcing him to stare up at him, blood gushing from his nose until he choked on it.

Another switch, back to Kyle, who had someone grabbing his hair, and was slamming him into the side of the wall.

“Here’s the game!” The man was saying, and Kyle was clearly trying to keep from making any pained noise. “Go get your little band together. The little fuckers who walked into our meeting. Then wait. No police. I’m listening to all the scanners, if I hear police, I’m killing one of them. I only need one, after all.”

“Kenny don’t-” And it cut off.

When he received the video, loading badly on his flip phone, Kenny had panicked. They had Tweek, they had…they had Kyle.

Messages from both the boys this morning said they’d skipped school. Craig hadn’t believed it any more than Kenny had, but considering Valentine’s was near, both boys had believed the boys had something cute planned for them. They’d talked about it during lunch, Craig turning red and refusing to speak and Kenny gushing like a lovelorn maiden.

Both boys were sitting on Kenny’s filthy bedroom floor, parents incoherent enough not to be a problem. Kenny was shaking, Stan looked ready to pass out, and Craig kept rewinding the video to Tweek being kicked.

“We need to get help,” Craig’s lips barely moved. Kenny had never been afraid of the boy, but looking at him now, he could feel the underlying distress and rage. Like he radiated it.

“That’s Ethan,” Stan said shakily. “From the…the church.”

“I broke his arm,” Kenny said shakily.

“He tried to kill you,” Stan said at the same time, speaking over him. “Craig, we can’t. They’ll kill either Kyle or Tweek, why does he want us together?”

“I don’t know,” Kenny said weakly, and Craig cradled the phone.

“Just get the number, have them trace it,” He said, staring and still.

“The number is blocked,” Kenny replied, snapping for the first time. “You think I didn’t think about that, my fucking boyfriend is being hurt too, in case you didn’t. Fuckin’. Notice.”

“There’s people that can track that,” Craig said, stormy eyes leveling Kenny. “They need help.”

“Are you gonna risk Tweek bein’ killed for it?” Kenny was faintly aware of the drawl in his voice, something he did purposely to annoy sometimes and came back involuntarily to annoy _him_ when particularly distressed. “Are you going to let one of them die and hope it’s not Tweek? ‘Cause it sounds like they want me, so in that case-”

Another video from the blocked number.

“Open it, open it, hurry up-” Craig was babbling, leaning over Stan to shove the phone back at Kenny. “I can’t, fucking flip phones, give them my number, let them talk to me, please-”

Kenny’s hands shook, he opened the video.

Tweek was shuddering now, face bloodied and making involuntary noises that seemed to jerk past his lips.

“Little twitchy druggie over here,” The man seemed amused. “He is cute. We’ll play a lot of the game with him. What you want to tell your boyfriend, Tweek?”

“Stop,” The boy said, thickly through lips sticky with blood and swollen. “Don’t hurt him,”

“You’re so sweet,” Ethan said, zooming in over his body and immediately out again. “But you’re not protecting anyone. If anything, he’s got to protect you.”

He walked over closer, stepping on Tweek’s hand. Kenny distinctly heard a crunch, making him nauseous, and Tweek shrieked.

Craig gasped, like his soul had been ripped from his body, hands clawing at his heart through his sweatshirt. “No, no, no, no-”

Stan looked ready to vomit. He covered his eyes, looking like he hated himself for doing so, shuddering like a leaf.

“I want you guys to talk to me. We’re almost ready to play now. Here’s the fun part of the game, you get to play, too.”

Another video was loading and Kenny frantically tapped it open.

Kyle. There was a full gash now on his forehead, as if the cut had been forcibly ripped, leaving him looking dazed.

“Baby,” Kenny whispered, frantic.

“First I want proof that you’re alone,” Ethan was saying, slowly stepping on Kyle’s throat. The boy struggled, trying to kick him off as he wheezed. “Picture, please. Of where you are, who you’re with. You have twenty seconds.”

Kenny backed out of the video immediately and his hands shook to try and open his camera.

“It doesn’t always work,” He weakly explained, hands shaking.

“Here, I’ll do it and send it to you,” Craig was opening the app on his phone, taking a sweep of the room and the pale boys watching. Stan was silent, still, hands clawing into his legs.

Kenny waited for the video, shaking. One loaded, but it wasn’t Craig’s. He opened it, the taller boy flying in to lean between him and Stan.

“Time’s up!” They saw the man reach for something, it looked like a metal bat. Craig grabbed Kenny’s shoulder, frantic.

“What are you even talking about?” Kyle asked, between gritted teeth. Then he caught sight of the bat and froze. 

“Ten seconds overdue means…let’s say….just an arm bone.”

“What? What-” Kyle broke off his sentence to nearly roar in pain. The dull thud of the bat, crackling of something in his arm, his pained noises ran into one. Tears were streaming down his face, body shuddering violently in shock.

“Nice. Well,” The man glanced over the bat. “Time to move to the other one. Hurry it up.”

“Fucking send it,” Craig sounded threatening, but Kenny was already sending off the loaded video.

The three waited, their breathing audible in the deathly quiet room.

“He’ll really kill them,” Stan croaked, shaking.

Kenny felt numb. Kyle’s cries echoed in his ears, ringing until he could hear nothing else. He was being hurt. Because of Kenny.

“We need to find them,” He said, in a voice he barely recognized.

“…How?” Stan asked, Craig reaching for the phone.

“Send a message?” He suggested, all in uncertainty and fear.

Kenny relinquished the phone, and Craig shoved his way to sit between the two. 

**Kenny M: Don’t hurt them. Whatever you want, it’s yours. We’ll play whatever game you’re looking to play. They have nothing to do with it.**

“Change that to just me, and you’re good,” Kenny said grimly.

“Now is not the time to be a martyr,” Craig said, sending the message. Kenny said nothing in reply.

The next video had the man standing over Tweek, making Craig cry out in distress. His face was bloodied, his eyes were wild in terror. Stan covered his face, peering between his fingers.

“Okay,” Ethan said. “If you don’t remember. This kid,” He shoved Tweek’s face away with his shoe, making the other cringe, “Fucked us up by getting Colby to tell him where we were. This guy….oh, this guy. Let me tell you what I think about this guy.”

He stooped down by Tweek, with a knife.

“NO!” Craig shouted, dropping the phone. “Make him stop! STOP!”

“This little _bitch_ was the kid who left me alone, in the end. You wouldn’t have done shit without Tweek, hm?” The guy set down the camera on the floor, his shadow visible as he crouched above Tweek and that was it. “Say hi to Craig, Tweek.”

“How does he…what…” Stan whimpered, Craig covering his own lips as he watched.

“Don’t, don’tdothis,” Tweek was asking, trying to move away. A hand grabbed his shirt, yanked him closer, used the knife to cut his shirt off as he shrieked in terror.

“Kenny!” Craig was saying, frantic, pleading, begging him.

Kenny couldn’t do anything. Never in his life had he felt more useless. There was nothing he could do.

Once his chest was bare, Ethan laid the glinting knife against his skin. Craig didn’t dare exit out of the video to beg him to stop. He watched, eyes huge.

“I know all about you, kiddo,” Ethan was saying, Tweek staring up in horror. “You just had a doctor appointment, right? For your anxiety, and doc won’t give you any meds you can get addicted to, even if they’d help. You’re a little drug addict and he doesn’t trust you. Craig got pissed over that, hm? Think he’s pissed now?”

“Stop,” Kenny had never heard Tweek sound so meek. “Please, stop. I’m sorry.”

“Aw, you’re the first one to say so,” Ethan said, tapping his chest with the knife and watching him flinch. “Red keeps swearing at me. You’re definitely the nicer one, so how about I make things easier on you?”

He made a slice into his skin. Tweek’s voice shrieked, but Kenny’s ears were ringing. He never saw violence that wasn’t applied to himself, he’d think he was immune to it, but the knife sliced through Tweek’s freckled, scarred skin like it was butter. Easy, smooth, making one long line and stopping.

“You’re going off to Denver for school, you have a little apartment just down the street from the college, and you’re taking the two guinea pigs you and Craig have with you.”

Craig was whimpering in distress, grey eyes trained on his boyfriend. He looked like he had no life left in him.

“H-howcanwhy-” Tweek was babbling, terrified, voice raising again as Ethan carved neatly into his skin.

F R E A K

Tweek was sobbing, shaking so badly the marks were crooked in some places, causing Ethan to lash out. He kicked Tweek any time he twitched, making Craig sink against Kenny, as if he couldn’t even sit up anymore.

“No need for therapy, we’ll train it out of you,” he laughed. “Now how about we go see how future Valedictorian Kyle Broflovski is doing?”

The video cut.

“We can’t do this, we have to get someone,” Stan was saying to both other boys. “Kenny.”

“I don’t know what to do,” He whispered. The police weren’t…they were useless in South Park. He never held much faith in them. If they let the radio know what was going on, or worse, if they didn’t believe them… “I don’t… I don’t know.”

He needed Kyle. There was a reason Mysterion was mostly brawn, he needed someone else to help with planning, or ideas, anything that involved cleverness. He needed Kyle.

“They can track them,” Stan said, over Craig who seemed to be absent from the room entirely, staring off at nothing. “We can go right now, find out where they are!”

“And you think they’ll believe us?” Kenny asked, agitated. “Stan, if I thought it was the right thing to do I’d be there in a fucking second, I can’t…I just…if he…”

He couldn’t speak. He inhaled, shakily, covering his eyes. Another dreaded blip, letting them know a video was received.

It was Kyle.

He was writhing, bruises on his face and seemed to be trying not to lay on his arm. Given his hands were behind his back, that wasn’t exactly possible.

“So,” Ethan was saying, Kyle glaring up through the pain and tear-streaked cheeks. “While I hate blondie, I hate you the most. You’re Kenny’s boyfriend, I didn’t know that at first.” Kyle had frozen at the mention of Kenny, face stark white. “Ohhh yes. You’ve been pining for years, huh Kyle? Scared of asking him out. Doesn’t seem like it was because he’s trailer trash, but…probably should’ve been. You asked him out, got all cozy, started nosing into our business. Do you even know what you’re sticking your dick in or do you not realize it yet?”

“Fuck off,” Kyle’s voice was hoarse.

“I want him to know. I want to make sure _you_ know,” Ethan replied, zooming in on his arm, the bone beginning to jut just under the skin where it was broken. “He’s a creature. Something so twisted it can’t even remotely be human anymore. He should have been ours, been what we used to finally awaken our Lord, and instead you decide to stomp on eons of traditions and life and destroy all I had left. For someone who will never be able to be yours, not really.”

“You weren’t anything big,” Kyle spat, venom in his pained eyes. Kenny shut his eyes and wished Kyle wasn’t so hotheaded. “You were remnants, pathetic stragglers oAAAA-”

Kyle screamed. Ethan stepped on the bad arm, rolling his foot to turn it and watch the bone break the surface, tearing and white as it was exposed just a bit to the light.

“Here’s the game, if you’re ready now!” Ethan was reaching for something smoking. “I want Kenny. If you can find us, you can have whoever is alive in return.”

“No,” Stan was saying, weakly. “Oh god no, fucking-”

“Come get your little Jew-boy, Kenny,” Ethan was smiling, you could hear it. “You’ll get updates if you don’t.”

A iron rod was pressed against Kyle’s face. They heard sizzling. Screams.

“What now?!” Stan was saying. “We got to go, we have to get help!”

Kenny was useless. Useless. He had no idea what to do.

Craig grabbed Kenny, and for a second he expected to be punched. Instead, the boy stared him in the eyes, intense.

“Kyle’s good with computers,” Craig said, desperately.

“Yes?” Kenny replied, lifting his hands helplessly. “He-”

“His brother.”

_Ike_.

Stan grabbed the phone. “Let’s go!” He said, and the boys ran. Over the train tracks, in the middle of the night. They more or less burst into Kyle’s house, Kenny doing the talking to explain. Something something something project school. He hoped his charming smile left them some time. Enough to fly into Ike’s room.

Kyle’s brother listened. Silent. And then he took the phone, with an expression that promised death.

Kenny honestly didn’t know Ike that well. He knew he was snarky, kind of a loner even though he had a large group of friends. He liked the internet and proving his brother wrong. He knew Kyle adored him, and Ike loved his older brother in return, mentioning that he could have _way_ shitter choices in life so he’d tolerate him.

He knew that the boy was a little bit intimidating, and if he or Craig didn’t kill Ethan, Ike would find a way without even leaving his computer chair.

“They’re in South Park,” Ike said, way more quickly than Kenny expected. “Somewhere in the Old District, by the pond.”

“Good enough,” Kenny took back the phone.

“If you don’t hear from us in ten minutes, call the police,” Craig told the boy, already leaving the room. “We’re going to kill him.”

“Good,” Ike said, unbothered. He kicked Kenny, who looked down at the boy as he was jostled from his own violent thoughts. “Kenny, he better not be hurt.”

He hadn’t let Ike look at the videos, only gave him a run-down.

“I’ll bring him back, Ike,” Kenny promised, and they were off.

When the town restructured, many buildings were left empty. Waiting for future tenants. Holding imprisoned boys.

There had to be one. Stan shakily mentioned it looked like a warehouse. Breaking into one of the buildings was easy. And then you just follow the screams.

Kenny could smell blood. Blood, something warm like burning flesh. Kyle. His Kyle, trying to fight back and making things worse like the fucking idiot he was. Hurting due to him. Punished, tortured, because someone had a problem with Kenny.

He flew into the room, seeing Ethan standing over Tweek, chatting amicably to his phone with a meat cleaver. His hand was missing two fingers, forced to lay on his stomach and try not to scream as his fingers were _sawed_ at with something meant to chop.

“STOP!” Craig’s voice thundered, he stepped past Kenny, but he never made it.

The world slowed.

Darkness. It built up in Kenny, frothing like vomit in his throat. Hate. _I want you to die_

Ethan was thrown against the wall, something dark holding him in place, slowly lifting him up the side until his head hit the ceiling.

Craig flew to Tweek’s side as Stan staggered out of the room, the taller boy finally starting to sob as he asked over and over if Tweek was okay, and his boyfriend kept breathing his name like a prayer.

“You wanted me to show up, here I am.” Something was wrong with his own voice. Something echoing, like he was in a cavern. He was holding up his hand, fingers twitching, and Ethan struggled against the darkness. “And here’s why you never hurt anything dear to me.”

He could feel, even though he wasn’t touching him. Could feel all those little bones in Ethan’s face, his neck, slowly starting to break. Tiny fractures, minuscule and innumerous, until they began to crumble into dust.

He crushed his spine. Twisted his neck, feeling the flesh under his hand that wasn’t really there. Listening to him stop breathing. Enjoying it. He was being let off too easy. He should have made him suffer longer. Let him see what an Eldritch could really do.

“KENNY!”

Stan.

Kenny dropped the man, whirling.

He could hear Stan calling Kyle’s name. Begging. He was this close to Tweek’s room…close enough that they had to hear each other scream.

Kenny followed him to see Stan backed against a wall, shaking. He was begging Kyle to get up, move, anything, too terrified to get closer.

Kyle was covered in burns, his sweater, the pale blue one Kenny liked to rub his face on, was ripped in half. His face was unrecognizable, crushed in, likely beaten with the metal fireplace poker he’d used to burn him, the poker that was driven through Kyle’s chest.

On his stomach was two words, cut as the one had been cut into Tweek’s.

T O O L A T E

Darkness engulfed him. The sound that came from Kenny wasn’t human, and never had been.

Somehow he was at his side, he could hear Stan screeching, but that didn’t matter.

Kyle’s eyes were open. Unblinking. Terrified. If Kyle was going to die, it should never be like this. Should have been peacefully, eyes closed in old, wrinkled skin, lying in a bed Kenny and he would purchase together. Around family, friends. Not alone, in a room, at the hands of a madman, before he even graduated senior year.

He surrounded Kyle, cupping his face, somehow also removing the speak from his chest. It didn’t even bleed.

He was dead. Kenny could kill every soul within miles, Kyle was dead. Ethan hadn’t intended on keeping him alive at all, hadn’t intended on a game, had only wanted to cause Kenny pain. Had only wanted to get to him by taking away one of the things he loved. Someone who deserved so much more than him, but stuck around and look where it got him.

Kyle was dead.

His body was still warm. Warm, but not beating. Not breathing. Brain dead. Kenny’s hands slid to his chest, over wounds, over burns, the crushed face. This slab of meat was barely recognizable.

Kenny screamed, enraged. The darkness swelled, making it all he could see. He was more sensing than seeing, feeling Kyle’s absence like a physical object.

The brightest thing in his life, extinguished.

Rage turned to something pin-sharp. And Kenny breathed.

He held his face, leaning in to kiss lips that were swollen and purple. His. His, his, his, his, and no one else’s. No one else could have him. No one else. He wouldn’t let them. 

Kyle breathed against his mouth.

Kenny’s eyes opened. He broke the kiss to lean back, seeing no marred skin, no marks. Nothing.

Behind them, Stan was chanting “whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck” with such intensity whatever he did had to have looked terrifying.

The darkness was receding, he felt tired. But Kyle was breathing, clothes still torn but body intact.

He opened his eyes, something wrong in them. They were too green, the brown looked sickly, but it was definitely Kyle.

“Ken?” He asked, hands no longer bound. The cuffs lay about a foot away, shattered, and Kenny didn’t remember any of that.

He kissed him. Licked into his warm, living mouth, burying his hands in his hair, groaning in utter relief.

Alive.

Kyle was more shocked than actually reciprocating, he gently pushed Kenny away and the boy was so close to crying.

“Baby,” He said, relieved. He looked over at Stan, who was staring at Kenny in pure terror.

Stan actually flinched when they made eye contact. The blond stared, as he slowly sank to the ground, trembling. He didn’t…look…happy?

He looked back at Kyle, who was staring at Kenny in a way that wasn’t how he ever wanted Kyle to look at him.

“Ken,” He said again, too-green eyes focused on him. “What did you just _do_?”


End file.
